When I'm Gone
by AppealingToHeaven0202
Summary: Isabella Marie Cullen is Carlisle Cullen's biological daughter. Another father/daughter take on the two, but with an eventual twist. "I will always be alive as long as your heart still beats."
1. Chapter 1

**A/N I've been wanting to write a story like this for a while. I didn't ever know exactly what to write about, but I've hit inspiration. It starts out a lot like most of the other Carlisle/Bella Father/Daughter stories, but there will be a difference after the first few chapters. However, I haven't written them yet, so don't hold me to that.**

**I hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to review. Thanks.**

Hush Little Baby

"No, baby, my child, don't cry. Daddy'll be here in the morning." I smoothed back the hair over her forehead, but she refused to look at me. My eight-year-old girl, wise beyond her years, the light in my life of darkness, wouldn't talk to me. After having begged me the entire day not to go, she had given up.

"My little girl, my angel, my life and heart, nothing will happen. I'll come back to you, I promise," I whispered, trying to wrap my arms around her soothingly. However, she recoiled and started to weep again. I tried not to let her behavior hurt me, but I'd never been rejected by her before.

"What can I do, please? I can't bear to see you this way, my love."

"Stay," she hiccuped, her voice hoarse. "I can't lose you, too."

"Mother is still with you here," I said, pointing to her heart. "She will always be watching over you from heaven." The truth was, she hadn't died, in fact she was still alive and well as far as I was concerned. But she'd left us – me, in actuality – unable to take care of herself let alone a little child, a little girl, our little Isabella Marie Cullen.

She finally peeked up at me from beneath her long, graceful eyelashes. I tugged playfully at a strand of her leather-brown hair, a habit of mine, and smiled comfortingly so she would stop crying. It broke my heart to see her so upset, and that I was the cause of it made it even worse.

"Will you always be watching, too?" she finally said.

I felt confused, taken by surprise. I feared that she'd taken my words out of context; I'd be proven wrong, of course. "No matter what," I promised, in order to appease her.

But suddenly she was quiet, lost in thought, which was a common occurrence for her. I knew she was still worried as she rubbed her wrists nervously. "Look at me, Isabella," I suddenly demanded softly.

Her head lifted in surprise, her red eyes studying me questioningly. I reached into my pocket, never removing my gaze from hers, and pulled out my pocket watch. It was one of my most prized possessions, because it meant that I held power. It also had the Cullen crest on the outside cover, labeling me as a member of one of the town's most prestigious families.

When she was little I let her play with it, promising that one day I would have a necklace with the crest made for her. She'd always told me she preferred my watch to a necklace, but I woudln't listen. "I went to the shops the other day and asked Mr. Giles if he would make me a silver necklace, about this big," I gestured with my thumb and index fingers, "with our crest on it and room for a locket inside. He promised me that it would be finished soon, but not soon enough, apparently. Therefore, until I return in the morning, you may keep hold of my crest. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded and her eyes widened comically as she traced the lion on the cover with awe. She was hesitant as she took it from my outstretched hand. "My Isabella," I started, "you are my world. I will always be alive as long as your heart still beats. Promise me you will be careful until my return."

She nodded once, but her expression spoke of her dread. "You will not reconsider?" she asked just once, promising to let it rest once I'd given her my answer.

"I cannot," I admitted regretfully.

"I will miss you," she whispered. It held more maturity than she should have been capable of, and as I looked into her face, the way her lips were downturned, the way her eyes looked anywhere but at me, and the way she clung to my watch, I knew that she meant it.

"And I you, my Isabella." I stood up reluctantly, watching her as she fell back onto her bed, crawling under the covers. She still refused to look at me, instead staring at the hands of the watch as they chugged ever forwards.

"I love you," I whispered. I stood in the empty doorway, hoping that she would look up at me just once more before I was forced to leave her behind, but I was not so lucky. However, as I closed the door, I heard her respond with,

"And I you, daddy."

A few hours later I knew that I, indeed, would not return to my child, my little girl. As I lay in the cellar housing rottten potatoes and their skin, I knew that I would break my promise. I would not return to her and I would not be able to watch over her without putting her into unnecessary danger.

As my veins turned to ash within my body, I truly became a shell with nothing inside, not even the heart that struggled to beat on. Without my life, my love, my Isabella, I would have no reason to live. This would be a lonely existence if I didn't die this night, because I would never find someone to replace my little girl, my own flesh and blood.

The only thing that prevented me from screaming out was the thought of Isabella seeing me this way, looking down on me with digust. "I told you so," she would whisper, and I knew that she would rather me be dead than a monster.

There was only one thing that rang true. "I will always be alive as long as your heart still beats."

And again, I would not understand how true that was.

**A/N Let me know what you think. I should have the next chapter posted soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Hello, thank you all for the reviews. I really appreciate everything you've to say about my story. If you're confused or even just want to make a suggestion, review or pm me.**

**Song: When I'm Gone – Eminem**

Don't Make a Sound

Is it my turn, really, so soon? I'm only sixteen, God, but I guess there's no age limit to death, is there? I stared into the eyes of the predator, the same thing that killed my father, and yet, I held neither fear nor animosity. I nearly thanked Him and the vampire for ending my pain, and my life.

The teeth of the old man sunk into my neck. He sucked greedily, and it hurt, but the only thing I could think of was God and his Grace. "I forgive you," I whispered, leaning against the man who was ending my life as my strength left me.

But suddenly, instead of finding darkness, I was shocked to reality once more as I was dropped to the ground, landing on paper and broken pieces of wood, abandoned. My body fell to the ground but there was no additional pain to what had already begun to course through me. I opened my eyes, staring up at the sky, but the clouds hid the stars that I so desparately tried to seek.

I mustered up the energy, despite the hollowness inside, and crawled under the same pile of wood I had been lying on top of.

The pain was unmistakable, it was fire and suddenly I asked God if he was burning me for heresy. I had killed His messenger, one that was wholly good and decent. I deserved His punishment.

I heard a horse carriage stop somewhere nearby and I had to stifle the sounds of pain uttered from my lips. But it was too much, and I almost called out, begged for death. I knew, however, that maybe this was my opportunity to redeem myself, and punish myself.

To keep myself quiet, I used my thoughts to distract myself from the burning. I was left to the mercy of my memories.

"_It has been decided that you will live with your grandmother, on your mother's side," the beedle announced, his voice sullen and bored._

_I tried to argue with him, but he wouldn't listen. He pushed me towards the grey-haired woman standing on the other side of the pews. She grimaced at me, tightening her shawl around her thin shoulders._

_As we left the orphanage, she grabbed my hair and I tried not to cry out. "It's your fault I've been burdened with you. Your father no longer wanted you because of your own stupidity."_

_I crumpled to the ground once she let go of my hair. "Stand up, Isabella," she growled._

_She walked away without me, and I was forced to pick up the pieces of my heart and follow her by myself._

_And I knew I had to get used to it._

"_Isabella!" the old woman screamed, beckoning me to her. I looked up at her, my eyes wide. She sneered down at me, then spit towards my feet – "No wonder your mother never wanted you," she whispered, trembling from rage._

_Before I could run away, she hit me with a nearby broom, shoving me away as if I was something hideous she no longer wanted._

_It was after that when I realized how ugly I was. It was no wonder my father had no qualms about leaving me, he didn't want me, either. _

* * *

_There was a demanding knocking on the door, and the old hag commanded me to open it. I hadn't bothered to look up from my father's pocket watch as the door shook under the weight of somebody's fist. I assumed that it was the same man that my grandmother locked herself into her bedroom with, who she threatened me not to bother when she was with. Whenever he came, I was forced to cover my ears and lay on my bed until she came and told me to make dinner._

_When I reached the door, I hid the watch in my pocket, where it rightfully belonged so no one would know I had it. I smoothed back my hair and straightened my dirty dress, hoping I looked presentable enough._

_The first thing I noticed as I opened the door was that the birds were singing; it was a beautiful sound. I watched them in the trees, fluttering and flittering happily amongst each others nests._

"_Isabella Cullen?"_

_I met the visitor's eyes reluctantly, trying to decide whether or not it was disrespectful to do so. When I finally studied his face, my heart shattered a little bit more._

"_Daddy?" I whispered shakily, but the man shook his head._

"_Do you not remember me? I am your grandfather, Isabella," he explained. "Can you please direct me to your grandmother?" he said politely._

_I wasn't allowed to listen to their conversation, but I knew it wasn't favorable. The hag, my grandmother, squeeled occasionally like a pig. I never heard my grandfather raise his voice, though, and I figured him for a perfect gentleman – just like my father. _

_Eventually the woman shouted at him to get out, "And take that bastard child with you!"_

* * *

"_Grandfather?" I asked, lowering my eyes in respect. I clasped my hands in front of myself, so he could observe my resignation and submission._

"_I would like you to read this," he gestured to the Bible on his desk, freshly printed and with leather that matched the color of my eyes. I was glad that he didn't sound angry, but I suddenly started to __shiver, cold sweat dripping down my back._

"_I cannot read, grandfather," I whispered hesitantly, ashamed._

"_I know that, child, do not fear. I will teach you."_

_My heart started to beat again. I had missed kindness and forgiveness. I knew then that my father had inherited his own goodness from my grandfather._

"_Please do not cry, child. Have I upset you?"_

"_I am thankful for your mercy, grandfather. My father was like you, and I am thankful for that, too."_

* * *

"_Isabella," my grandfather said. I hurried to stand before him, my personal Bible clasped in front of me. I had found myself grown attached to it, falling for God's promise of love and happiness and everlasting life. Admittedly, I had only reached the Book of Ruth, but even that had appeased my grandfather._

"_Yes, Grandfather Cullen?" I inquired quietly._

_He knelt in front of me, despite his aching joints and his painful knees. He took my Bible from my hands and rested it on his thigh, making sure it would not fall. Once he could rest assured, he reached into his pocket – the action so similar to my father's the night he left, it made my heart leap into my throat – and pulled out a silver chain with a pendant on the end._

"_Your father had this made for you. It holds our crest, and on the inside I have placed something precious to you. Along with that, my child," he paused, reaching further into his pocket. He coughed lightly, blushing as he remembered that he had stored it in his opposite pocket. "I, myself, had this made for you," he finished._

_On the chain that my father wanted me to have, my grandfather slipped a small, silver cross to rest next to the locket. "You may carry us both with you, Isabella," he murmured. "And you may also have God."_

* * *

"_Have you finished, Isabella?" he asked, a grin on his face. It surprised me that I had never seen him truly smile before._

"_Yes, grandpapa," I concurred excitedly._

_He placed his hand on my shoulder, looking down on me with pride in his eyes. It made his his entire face sparkle, and it warmed me that I had caused that. I was the source of his pride. I felt whole for the first time in a long time._

"_You amaze me, Isabella Cullen. I will always love you as my own."_

_The happiness, however, didn't last long. Suddenly, the man who I had grown to adore and love, too, __fell forward, his old body shuddering with pain. I tried to catch him but I was far too small._

_I learned later that his heart had stopped and it made me feel cold that I had caused that. I was the source of his death. I had killed the one person on earth that I had left, the only person who still loved me._

* * *

_A few nights later, I stole away in the darkness while everyone slept or wept for my grandfather, carrying only my Bible alongside me. I wore the necklace around my neck, and kept my father's pocket watch safely between my corset and my bare skin._

_I wanted to be alone but ended up finding another lone, thirsty soul to be bothered with._

* * *

I woke up slowly, my eyes attuning to the light of the sun peeking through the slivers of wood above me. I began to weep quietly when I noticed my skin sparkling, glittering in the sun. I was a monster, but I couldn't help but think that I was finally beautiful.

My throat burned but I could easily ignore it. I closed my eyes, praying to God that I would decay away beneath the trash I was left in.

The only thing I could think about was my father and grandpapa. What would they think of me now? Were they disgusted, as they watched down on me from heaven? I was everything they hated, everything they went out of their way to kill. I was what my father had died protecting me from.

As I reached out, finding my Bible lying next to me, glad that I carried it with me even in the haze of pain, I realized that I was everything I was told by God to hate. "Can I no longer turn to you?"

I opened the cover of my locket and stared at the face of my father. My grandfather had hand-drawn a portrait of his son, small enough to wear around my neck. I had never been able to thank him enough. I observed now, of course, that if only I had disappointed him instead of fulfilled his wishes, he might still be alive.

It was slowly, as I dwelled in my self-hate that I realized I no longer sparkled. I was soft, I was warm. I felt the tears before I tasted them, they tumbled down the front of my face but they also fell down sideways. They landed in my mouth, filled my ears, I could even smell them and they smelled like the ocean, like salt.

I was not human, but I could appear to be. Suddenly, a soft thudding finally woke me from my despair. My heart beat.

My father's voice accosted me, nagging me until I was forced to listen, "_I will always be alive as long as your heart still beats._"

**A/N Thanks for reading! Please, review, I really love hearing from you all. The next chapter should be up soon.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N All right, here's the next installment to When I'm Gone. I'm really having a blast writing this. At this point in time, I have a bunch of chapters half-written. I know which chapter I'm posting after this, and I just need to finish it, so hopefully it won't take too long.**

**Thanks to those of you who reviewed.**

Grandpapa's Gonna' Buy You a Mockingbird

The words never left me alone. Every breath I took, the words resounded, echoing in my skull like a mantra. "I forgive you," she would whisper in my ear, "I forgive you." I could feel her warm breath against my cool skin still, the way she leaned against me for support. I still heard her prayer as her eyes flittered to the sky.

I would hold my breath, try to die, but then that sound, those words, made me think that I was too guilty to be reprieved from this existence. I deserved this torture. Her warm blood still sat on my tongue, taunting me, willing me to go back and finish her off. I knew exactly where I left her, but I could never hurt her more than I already had.

How would she ever truly forgive me? I had condemned her to death in a moment of thoughtlessness and weakness. I couldn't contain my thirst, how selfish was I?

"You're new," a soft voice condoled. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I realized I had run into the forest in my hunger-crazed daze. I crouched halfway up a tree, leaning against the branches though they poked uncomfortably at my skin. "You'll learn self-control."

"I can't do this," I whispered, looking over my shoulder at the man leaning against the tree behind me. His black hair swung limply as he shook his head, refusing to listen to me.

"She told me she forgave me..." I whispered, looking back towards the city limits.

"Then why do you feel so guilty?" the other vampire asked with a lazy grin.

"Because I was the one who taught her forgiveness," I explained. I closed my eyes, heartbreak rippling through my frame. "She was my granddaughter."

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"How long are you going to sulk, Silas?" Adam asked. His eyes were a vibrant shade of red and I knew he'd just fed. I stared down at him from where I crouched, refusing to leave the tree I had been residing in for days now. He stared up at me curiously.

"Is there any other way to feed, other than from humans?" I asked randomly, suprising him. The thought had been bothering me since the night I had... I still couldn't think it.

"Are you really so opposed to killing humans?" he asked in return. "It's the circle of life, Silas," he explained, appearing beside me and sitting down, letting his feet hang off the end of the branch. He swung them back-and-forth. "It's just like... how humans eat their cattle. Except, we eat the humans."

"It was just a question," I murmured.

"I once met a strange little man," Adam started, ignoring my impertinence. "He had eyes of gold, instead of red. Upon asking him why, and how? He said that he drank from animals."

I swiveled around quickly, lost in thought as I stared at Adam. "Are you considering that?" he asked resignedly. I nodded once, then turned to stare forward again.

"Possibly."

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Adam left me after my first couple of years as a vampire, after meeting his mate and begging me to marry them. His wife, after a few months, had converted him to nomadism. They had offered to let me go with them, where they were moving to Siberia, but I had refused, preferring the company of my own thoughts over their love-struck banter.

I was led to the school of medicine in Greece, once I was positive I could safely surround myself with humans. I wasn't completely interested in medicine, however. The only thing that appealed to me was working with humans. But after I almost slipped up in one of the hospitals, I convinced myself that I should find another way to be around humans – at least until I had better self-control.

After that I moved to the New World, working as a missionary for the Native Americans there. However, I quickly became sympathetic to their cause, and I fought with them against the invading Europeans.

That quickly led to my involvement in the French and Indian War, and after that, the American Revolution. I was, in fact, the personal surgeon for Major General Friedrich von Steuben, a Prussian soldier aiding General Washington at Valley Forge. Despite my distaste for medicine, I lended my services in whatever way possible.

Once the war ended, I moved around, settling in towns where I could remain completely anonymous. I would volunteer at churches or hospitals, and sometimes I would seek out employment as a pastor or administrator. I even worked as a librarian once, but there wasn't nearly enough excitement to satisfy me.

I was never one to stay for too long in one place, and so after about six years I would disappear into the dark of the night. For safety measures, I would travel to a different continent and develop a completely new life.

I figured I could live my life like this until my untimely death, caused by something I hopefully would be willing to die for. It was a boring, and not to mention lonely, existence. Some days all I wanted to do was die. Other days, the only reason I lived was because I wanted to feel the misery.

I would lean back in a chair at night, rest my arms behind my head, and close my eyes. I would think of nothing except my son and granddaughter for hours, as all the humans slept. I would see Carlisle's blue eyes, looking up at me for guidance. After that, I would see Isabella's brown ones, filled with sadness and hopelessness.

"I forgive you," she whispered in the air. And then again, "I forgive you." My heart broke every time I allowed myself to remember the words, and her voice, and her prayer.

I felt like Prometheus, every day surrounded by Isabella's words, just as he had been tortured by Zeus's giant Eagle each and every morning.

Some days I thought I felt my heart beat, just so that I could feel it be eaten out again, when I remembered Isabella's words.

"I forgive you."

**A/N Please, let me know what you all think of my story. I really enjoy hearing from you all. If you have any ideas or suggestions, don't hesitate to pm me.**

**Thank you, everyone who reviewed or sent me their thoughts in a personal message. I really appreciate the time you took to allow me into your heads.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N I hope you all like this story. I made sure to label the POV so it won't be as confusing, hopefully. Please R & R.**

**We all know Carlisle's story, I presume? Well, here's Isabella's.**

**Song: Your Song – Elton John (Though I wrote this to Ellie Goulding's version)**

And if That Mockingbird Don't Sing

I'm Gonna Buy You a Diamond Ring

Isabella's POV:

I hated what I was. Every day I tried to die, attempted to kill myself if only because I feared what my father and grandfather would say. I knew if I died, I wouldn't go to Heaven like they had. Instead, I feared I would end up in Hell if anything at all. I may only wither away and become nothing, and I decided that maybe that was better. A soul like mine was condemned, was it not? I was made to kill, it was a given that a soul like mine was not judged in the same manner.

I discovered immediately after I woke that I was graced with certain powers. I was still human, in some way, but underneath I knew I would always live forever, a condemned life. My powers eased my pain, but never erased them.

Every day I thought about my father's death at the hands of a monster just like me. And then I thought of my grandpapa, dead because of me and my influence. In the back of my mind, as I lived each day unending, I could still see the eyes of my father – blue, like his mother's. And I could see my grandpapa's – brown like mine.

I vowed to never remove my necklace, in order to never forget my condemnation and my pain. I needed a reminder, otherwise, I found myself forgetting. The memories, after a while, became fuzzy and unorganized. That, itself, nearly killed me.

I learned to tempt myself, not with humans, but I made sure to drink only from animals. I worshipped the lives of humans, attempting to preserve them however I could. I found no interest in pastoring – although I remained a devout believer, fruitlessly – so I turned to medicine, instead. I knew my father had always wanted to become a surgeon, surrounding himself with journals and texts on human anatomy when my grandpapa didn't know, so I did, too, if only to make him proud.

I found myself enrolled at the University of Oxford only five years after I was changed. While I was embodying myself as a human I felt no unquenchable thirst, so I had no need to learn self-control. I graduated at the top of my small class of ten, earning the right to practice medicine wherever I should please.

I chose Scotland, after being enraptured by the beauty of the scenery and the liveliness of the people. However, after ten years, people began to notice that I never aged. After that, I left to live in Germany. It was beautiful, but I contended with the personalities of the people, and I also found that I had a hard time learning their language. I moved to Ireland only five years later, in 1701, to further pursue medicine at a small school in the north which went unrecognized by many institutions.

In 1710, I decided to travel to France. Unlike Germany, I enjoyed learning their romantic language. The people there, although somewhat offensive, were very genuine. Even though many of the lower class citizens struggled in impoverished situations, they all welcomed me with open arms. I worked for free, tending to poor families and received shelter and food (which I always gave away) in return.

In 1722 I moved back to London. I lived in a small housing development, hidden from site mostly, and cured maladies for small amounts of money. I resided next door to an orphanage and the children always stopped by, loving to listen to my stories of different countries and people; they loved hearing me speak in Latin and French. There was one child, Michael, who asked me to read to him because he couldn't, and so I read to him from my Bible.

The day before I left, he had just turned fourteen. As a farewell gift, I presented him with a crucifix to wear around his neck. He held me for an hour afterwards as I ran my fingers through his hair. It was as if he knew we would never see each other again, and he told me, "It feels like I'm losing my mother."

It was 1732 when I traveled to Poland. Michael had told me that his parents loved it there, and so to honor him, that was where I lived for seven years. I lived in Russia after that, but was kicked out of my home and forced to move to Switzerland.

In 1753, I was tempted to move to the New World, but I hated conflict – especially conflict with England. So instead, I went to Spain, then Portugal. Eventually, at the end of the American Revolution, I was curious enough to endure the boat ride to New York, America.

I ended up living in every colony of the New World, unable to get enough of their enlightenment ideals and enthusiastic leaders. It was October 7th of 1849 that my life changed completely. I was living in Maryland, working full-time as a surgeon at the Spring Grove Hospital Center.

I wasn't one to sulk in my home at night while everyone slept. Instead, I venutred to the sea, submerging myself in the peaceful atmosphere while no one was there to bother me.

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October 7th, 1849

Baltimore, Maryland

Isabella's POV:

It was midnight, the stars were merry in the sky, shining pale light through the reflection of the more menacing aura of the moon. I looked up, gazing on the universe, watching as the moon ordered her sea – its servant – to rear up and claim the land.

The moon was slowly covered by a lone cloud, preventing me from feeling the cold of Her digression. I instead turned to the stars, seeking that Proud Evening Star. The feeling was like being led home, though my feet didn't move.

I smiled upwards, imagining –

But I was suddenly interrupted by the sound of screaming and shouting. I stood up from where I reclined on the beach, where I had been dipping my toes in the water, and looked to the direction that the sounds were coming from.

"Help!" a weak voice cried. A hoarse whimper, and then eery silence made my feet move and run away from the stars, southwards.

There was a silhoutte of two men leaning against the door of somebody's home. I slowed, watching as the taller, more slender man attached his mouth to the others pulse. My hands began to shake and I tried to debate whether or not I should run, sprint, and escape from an inevitable fight.

But I moved forward not of my own accord, and grabbed the man's arm, flinging him backwards. The vampire's victim slumped to the ground, gasping in relief as he stared up at me. He had soft, curly black hair and startling blue eyes, and my body began to react to his piercing gaze.

"Oh, God," I whispered, my whole being trembling. The human before me licked his lips, then squeezed his eyes closed desperately. The entire spectacle ended up as a distraction from the growling behind me.

"You're an animal drinker!" the vampire exclaimed abruptly, causing me to whirl around and face him. I lowered myself into a defensive crouch, protecting the man behind me. He was slowly stiffening, the venom coursing through his veins, invading his heart and mind.

"And?" I demanded, slowly moving backwards.

"You should be easy to kill."

I grinned, baring my teeth but silently asking for Heaven's aid. I reached out in preparation of the other vampire's lunge as he suddenly advanced. He managed to sink his teeth into my cheek, but I grabbed his arm and tugged. He screamed, like the sound of a fork slipping against a plate, and then went silent as I removed the extremity completely.

He stared at me in shock, lying on the ground. "If you leave now, I will not follow," I whispered coldly. "Unless you want to take your chances."

He shook his head and stood, grabbing the arm that I threw at him. "Run," I growled.

Once he was out of sight, I turned and pulled the human into my arms. His lips were pale with effort, his teeth biting into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. I stood there, holding him like a babe, and I let my heart beat, so I could feel the butterflies in my stomach.

I was frightened out of my mind, after I contemplated the situation for a second. I demanded to know how I was supposed to take care of a new vampire, one that would lust for blood – and definitely not blood from an animal. My home was in the middle of town, in the epicenter of business with shops and markets on either side of me.

He started crying out, screaming as if being murdered, and I took off running in consternation. I stopped once we reached the park a few blocks from my home, shifting him more comfortably in my arms. I stared down at him again, enjoying the blush of his cheeks and his lovely blue eyes while I still could. I couldn't describe it, but I knew this man meant something to me.

I sighed decidedly, figuring I would have to take the chance and if it didn't work out, we would run – far from here. I would have to hide from the Volturi, but most importantly, I would have to hide this man, who was turning cold in my arms. I wouldn't stand to see him be hurt, let alone killed.

As I maneuvered towards my loft, clouds started rolling in, blocking out any spare light. I slowed, praying the rain drops would soothe his burn and his pain. But he still tensed, relaxed, interchanged back-and-forth as if the pain subsided periodically.

His eyes opened occasionally, staring upwards at nothing, especially now that the stars were gone. But once, just one time, he focused onto my face, looking into my eyes pleadingly. My hands tightened around him, and I cradled him comfortingly.

"We're here," I murmured appeasingly. I opened the door, foregoing the lock and cracking it open easily. As I entered the cold, empty living space, I realized he would have to occupy my bed, for there was no other place in which he could reside.

I pulled all the blankets off and set him down on the bare mattress. I wouldn't want the fabric to irritate his skin. He started to curl in on himself, holding himself in the foetal position to ease the pain in his chest. I stroked his cheek, then studied him and his clothing, specifically.

He was completely covered in mud and I assumed that he had acquired the grime when his assailant attacked him. However, he was so dirty, I doubted it.

I searched my home for a cloth and ended up ripping the sleeves off of one of my dresses. I doused them with water which I gathered from a bucket on the windowsill, and took it back to my bedroom. He hadn't moved from where I left him, however, he definitely had a whiter pallor – the blood escaping from his face and hands.

I crouched next to him, running my cool fingers across his forehead. He leaned into my touch, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to speak. "Shh," I consoled, then layed the piece of cloth onto his forehead and dripped water over his dry lips.

With the remainder, I started wiping the dirt from his hands, then his arms. I removed his shirt tentatively, letting it out in the rain to soak, then poured the rainwater over his chest. He groaned in gratitude and I smiled absentmindedly, hoping he wouldn't mind as I took in the tantalizing sight of his muscles. I enjoyed the softness of his stomach, but the capability of his shoulders and arms. I noticed myself trace his biceps and scolded myself, pulling away in embarrassment.

Once I was satisfied, I sat back on my heels and watched. I spent the entire night completely consumed by his presence. The next day, I pulled his shirt inside from the rain and let it dry. That night, I put it back on him reluctantly, knowing I'd miss watching the way his bare chest rose and fell as he breathed.

It was two days later that I noticed his heart rate speed up in torment. He started screaming again, his fingers curling at awkward angles and the veins in his neck standing out. I reached out to him, caressing under his chin carefully, aware that he could wake up at any moment.

"It's alright," I whispered. "It's almost over. I'm here."

A few seconds later, there was one last '_glup_' of his heart, and then everything was completely silent. I took a step backwards, twiddling my fingers in front of myself nervously.

His eyes opened quickly, frightfully, and he stared up at the ceiling. He raised his hand in front of his face slowly and studied it. I moved surreptitiously but he noticed, and suddenly he was across the room, cowering – _cowering_ – in the opposite corner. I watched him, raising an eyebrow and raising my hands, also, to show him that I meant him no harm.

I tilted my head in concern as he stood slowly, then took a step towards me. It was in that moment that silence consumed us – not normal silence, but the silence after there's been a loud noise and its suddenly stopped. My eyes widened, my mouth open as I took shallow breaths.

I looked into his eyes. They held pain, but hidden behind that, there was a hint of possessiveness. He lurched forward faster than I thought possible, and suddenly his mouth was on mine. He shoved me against the wall, causing it to crack under the force.

His eyes stared into mine, like they were searching my soul for its darkest secrets. His eyes were a violent shade of red, mine were gold, and I shivered at the contrast. I missed his blue eyes.

My heart abruptly began to beat under his hand, where he grappled at my chest. He hissed at me, frightened as I wavered between my human and vampire form; but he didn't stop. He continued to grind against me seductively, leaving open-mouthed kisses on either of my cheeks.

I screamed for him to stop, but I realized no sound escaped my lips. My body arched into his and it told me not to fight it. "Don't stop," I moaned.

He breathed hotly against my mouth, panting out words to describe me. "You're so beautiful," he murmured. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he let his hands slide down to my waist.

He pulled away but left butterfly kisses across my neck. He hesitated and just as I wondered if he would go even further, he broke the sensitive skin of my shoulder with his teeth, marking his claim.

I gasped, the pain suddenly clouding my vision. I shoved him away, but though he stumbled backwards, it felt like he was still plastered against me.

My entire body tingled, my hair began to spark from electricity and the pads of my fingers exuded energy. "Mine," he whispered, his eyes turning dark as he studied me.

"Yours," I agreed, unable to stop myself.

11111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111111 111111111111111111111111111111111111111

"Come on, Isabella," he urged, crossing one leg over the other where we sat at my dining table. I growled lightly but closed my eyes in concentration.

"You've done it before," he reminded me.

"Shut your mouth," I snapped. I blushed once I realized what I said, but he guffawed unoffended, leaning back in his chair. I couldn't help but smile, and suddenly, the bubble traversed from my chest to his. I watched as he quieted, and smiled contentedly.

I attacked him, then, knocking him backwards in his chair. I was unable to control myself once I took in his blue eyes and blushed cheeks.

"Oh, how I dreaded the thought of never seeing your blue eyes again."

He kissed me softly as I laid one hand over his heart and one hand over mine. They beat in snychronization, and suddenly I was more free than ever. I had something – nay, _someone_ – to live for.

"I love you, Edgar."

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